A year.

Today is my birthday. It should be a happy day. A day to celebrate and have fun like any other 14 year old my age should be doing on their birthday. But not me. A year ago today, the person that taught me more than anyone in the world, the person that touched my life more than anyone ever has and ever will, the person that changed my life from the minute she came into it, the person that I loved and followed in her journey for 8 months before she went to heaven, was told she was dying. Plain and simple. The chemotherapy treatments had failed. She had had the maximum radiation treatments for her lifetime. The alternative treatments weren't working. That there were over 40 tumors in her lungs and her pelvic/hip tumor was spreading down her leg. But she still... still... believed she would be healed on Earth. This time last year, she was still on Earth. She was still believing and having hope and faith. My only wish to God was to heal Ellie on this Earth. To take me instead of her. I couldn't lose my girl. My favorite girl. She taught me so much to that point, I couldn't stop learning. If she was gone, that meant her lessons were over. She wouldn't teach me anything after she took her last breath. It's amazing enough she taught me so much when she was breathing. But it wasn't possible that I could lose Ellie. I couldn't live without her. She was my world. I was so attached. I couldn't have her taken away from me from so pathetic as cancer. I just couldn't. Still everyday I saw her get weaker and weaker. Heard  about her pain and struggle. I believed, too, that she would get the miracle she deserved. The miracle that never came. Ellie was the miracle. But not the miracle we hoped for. Ellie taught me many things in 8 short months. She taught me to smile because there is always something to smile about. Ellie came into my life at a low time. I had just lost my friend and I had never lost anyone close to me before. Ellie pulled me out of the hole I was in. I'll never forget that day she showed up on my computer screen. She had just relapsed with stage 4 cancer and she was smiling. I didn't understand how she did it. I still don't. If I had cancer, period, I don't know how much I could smile. To tell my mom and dad and sister and friends that it was all right. That I would be perfectly fine. Ellie was wise beyond her years. She may have only been 8 but she was smarter than most adults. Until Ellie's last breath, she helped me believe she would be cured on Earth. I had a little hope at 11:34 a.m. June 23, 2010. I had hope she could make it through no matter what the doctors said. No matter how much she struggled to breathe or was in pain. The day my hope started waining the most was the day she stopped walking because it hurt so much. That was the day I faced a hard reality that my girl would soon be gone. But my hope never, EVER stopped until 11:35 a.m. on June 23, 2010. I had to hope. If I didn't, it meant I would accept the inevitable. That I was going to lose my girl forever. That I would never get to see her smiling face. Ellie taught me to have hope through everything, no matter the circumstances. On her dead bed, Ellie told her mom, "Don't worry, Mommy. I'm not going to die." She was going to live! Even in her worst hour, Ellie's spirit was alive! She wasn't going to leave us.